The faintest hint of a flush appeared on Danil's pale cheeks, when he saw that he had also managed to spill the man's coffee all over him. "Shit." He agreed, not sheepish, but clearly contrite. "I, uh." He patted his pockets as if that would suddenly make napkins appear.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, this apology a little more heartfelt than the first. "You okay?" His hands now hung by his sides, awkward.